


A Solider's Life

by junko



Series: Scatter and Howl [31]
Category: Bleach
Genre: M/M, so many head canons, too many original character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-27
Updated: 2015-08-27
Packaged: 2018-04-17 14:21:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4669877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junko/pseuds/junko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Though still apart, both Renji and Byakuya consider their lives as soldiers and their relationships to their zanpakutou.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Solider's Life

Renji spent the walk back to the estate trying to make his case to Seichi. Finally, with a sigh, he asked, “Why is it so hard for you to imagine that I might be in love?”

Seichi shrugged, though he seemed to be considering his answer.

They walked under awnings draped with lanterns, many of them already lit. Even though it wasn’t even yet dinner time, the winter sun had already start to drop below the horizon. The sky was hazy, a cold rain misted the air, casting halos around the lights.

Seichi continued to wear his blond dreadlocks pulled back into a tight topknot that resembled Renji’s, complete with white bandana covering the tattoo on his forehead. In these few, artificial ways, they looked like siblings. 

As was to be expected of people who weren’t related at all by blood. 

Renji told himself that it probably just dumb luck that Rukia looked so much like Byakuya. That had to be it. What else could it be? The kitchen staff and the graffiti in the secret passage implied that Byakuya’s dad might have been a bit of a Lothario, but really, how would Hisana end up with her lover’s son? And what would that make Rukia? Her daughter? No, it didn’t seem possible.

“I guess I don’t really understand how love works,” Seichi said. They’d walked so long in silence that Renji had almost forgotten he’d asked Seichi the question. Seichi glanced up at Renji, catching his eye. “I’ve never been in love. Or, at least, I don’t think so. There’ve been people I’ve found physically attractive, I suppose, but prison isn’t exactly the sort of place that’s good for a budding romantic. All I ever learned was about risk-assessment and barter. The relationship you’re in seems like bad barter.”

Renji tamped down on his knee-jerk reaction to that in order to sincerely inquire: “Yeah, how come?”

“Seriously, you don’t see it?” Seichi asked. “He’s got so much power over you. He’s your boss. He’s a noble. He’s physically stronger than you. He’s prettier than you. If he were in prison, he’d be the big boss you’d avoid at all cost.”

“He is in prison,” Renji pointed out.

Seichi nodded. “That’s kind of my point. You do know why fraternization is a crime, right? He could order you to do anything!”

_Like strip in his office?_ Renji snorted. “That not why--”

Seichi cut him off. “Yes, it is! That’s a dangerous position to be in, to have to follow someone who doesn’t have your best interests at heart.”

Renji had been pretty patient with the conversation up to this point. He’d been honestly trying to listen and see if he could understand Seichi’s point of view. Now, he just glared at him. “You’re a moron, Seichi. No captain in the Gotei has their soldiers’ best interests at heart. They can’t. That’s not how it works. A captain’s job is to make the best decision possible that costs the least lives. That’s the problem with fraternization, you idiot. Not that the soldier will be forced to go somewhere they don’t want to go, but that the captain might hesitate to use that soldier for sentimental reasons.”

“I still say it’s wrong.”

“That’s only because all you know from soldiering is the Eleventh,” Renji said. “Look, I served the Kenpachi proudly for half a century, but being in the Eleventh ain’t the same as being a regular soldier in the Gotei.”

Seichi looked put out. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, the Kenpachi goes where he wants, okay?” Renji said. “Eleventh doesn’t get sent out to missions in the Rukongai ever, because the higher ups know that the Kenpachi might just decide the revolution is worth joining and then what? So, don’t try to talk to me like you’re a soldier all of a sudden. You have no fucking idea. You’re wearing the uniform, sure, but until you’ve actually had to follow an order you don’t like, shut the fuck up. You think it’s some kind of surprise to me that my captain--or any captain--could order me to do something unsavory or send me to my death just because they don’t like the way I look? Already been there. Already done all that. Six times over. And, that was all way before I hooked up with the Sixth and Byakuya.”

Seichi spat on the ground at Renji’s feet. “How can you be like that. Renji? Why do you let them take a fine Inuzuri mutt and break him into a dog of the military?”

Maybe it was supposed to sting, but Renji just gave Seichi a cold smile as he repeated, “‘Dog of the military,’ eh? I’ve been kind of waiting for that one from you, little brother.” Renji let out a long sigh. “I know you think I’m some kind of giant sell-out, but service in the Gotei is complicated. I ain’t in this alone, you know,” Renji said patting Zabimaru at his side.

They’d come to the estate’s long wall. Renji led them along it’s gray expanse towards the tradesmen’s entrance. Ice glittered in the crevices between the stones. They passed a shop with a boarded up window that Renji recognized as the one he'd tossed Byakuya into.

“I don’t always follow orders, either,” Renji pointed out. “But, even after the business with Rukia, I believe in the point of it. I mean, yeah, I ain’t stupid. I know the system is unbalanced, maybe even corrupt. But that’s true everywhere. You have to understand, I heard Zabimaru call back in Inuzuri, some time after I crawled on my knees trying to save Katuso’s life. It was that very day that I realized that one person’s sacrifice can be worth a dozen lives. It’s a price I’ll pay again and again and again until I’m skinned, broken. If I take it on, so you can live? It’s worth it.”

Zabimaru hissed their approval.

Seichi stared at Renji for a long time before he said, “Is this what it means to be a soldier?” He shook his head. “Then I ain’t one.”

Renji probably should have been mad, but he just rubbed the top of Seichi’s head affectionately. “No, you ain’t. What’d I tell you? You come back and disrespect me once you’ve served a half century.”

“I won’t make it that long,” Seichi admitted. 

“You might,” Renji said kindly. “You never know. Maybe you’ll pick up an asauchi who wants to be called out with ‘Up the Revolution.’”

“Fuck off,” Seichi said, but he was smiling.

#

Dinner was a strange affair. An armed guard showed up at their cell and escorted Byakuya and Ten down several narrow hallways. After passing a few empty solitary cells, they continued on past what seemed like maintenance areas. Mechanical hissing sounds and thrums came from twisty metal piping that had a kind of organic shape that reminded Byakuya far too much of Mayuri Kurotsuchi. 

In the middle of all of this metal, stone, and plastic appeared a traditional rice paper door. It slid aside with a gentle, familiar swish. The interior revealed tatami mats and well-crafted low tables and zabuton pillows. Cherrywood and plaster on the wall invoked simple, clean lines. Walking over the threshold was like stepping back into a better place.

Byakuya could have wept to see it. Instead, he left his prison issue sandals at the door, and sat seiza where the guards indicated he should. Ten plunked down kitty-corner from Byakuya, all loose-limbed and tailor-fashion. He looked as young as ever, his light brown hair, like a furry helmet, close against his scalp. Leaning back on his arms, he sighed, as if dinner were some kind of chore. But, Byakuya could smell the scent of simmering miso and clam, and it made his stomach cramp for the want of it.

Some time ago, his stomach had stopped making noises of protest, and, instead, had faded to a dull, constant ache. 

As he waited, he looked about the room. Not terribly large and windowless, it nevertheless had the feeling of openness thanks to the simplicity of the design. There was one piece of art framed on the wall. A simple calligraphy, something about the tranquility of… confinement? Or… a coffin?

Byakuya was still parsing out the meaning when a hidden panel slid aside to admit the warden. She was still her usual utilitarian self, in a simple uniform and her long steel gray hair pulled back into a tight pony tail. With a bow to her guests, she sat across from Byakuya, her legs splayed out like Ten, cross-legged. Her fingers were as active as ever, stretching out and back, as though doing some sort of exercise.

Ten inched away from her, moving incrementally closer to Byakuya, as though for protection. Even so he inclined his head politely and said, “Good evening, ma’am.”

Byakuya tried to decide the level of deference he should show. He had no idea. She was technically a superior, possibly much older than himself, and, of course, she had his life in her hands. Still, in this informal setting, bowing was… difficult. Despite being a prisoner, Byakuya had not suddenly stopped being the Kuchiki or a captain, therefore his choices of honorifics were also complicated. Eventually, he merely said, “Yes, good evening.”

She smiled at him and inclined her head. “Are you adjusting to life without Senbonzakura?”

Byakuya wished never to hear Senbonzakura’s name on this odious woman’s lips, but he swallowed his revulsion long enough to say, “Well enough.”

Ten watched this exchange curiously. “Your zanpakutō was sealed? I thought you were only here for three weeks.”

“Not sealed,” Byakuya explained. “We are merely separated.”

The warden made a little humming noise, her hands dancing. “That’s why you’re both here,” she explained. “You’re only ones eating for two.”

Curiously, Byakuya glanced at Ten. Ten seemed to be a long term resident, yet his zanpakutō wasn’t sealed? How was that possible? 

“Separated and not sealed? But that’s dangerous,” Ten said.

“They’re close, but I doubt he’ll change that much in three weeks,” the warden said.

Were they talking about him? What did they mean by ‘change’? Byakuya might have asked, but just then, the secret panel opened again. This time, several armed… servants? or, perhaps guards?... came through carrying trays. Byakuya had to clutch his knees to keep himself from grabbing the bowl of rice they set beside his elbow and shoving it, without any dignity, into his face. His own visceral, barely contained desire made him look at the warden again, at her constantly grasping hands. It occurred to him that her behavior was like the hungry, the starving. But, if she craved something so much, what was it?

The guard/servants laid out rice, individual bowls of clam miso soup, a large serving of marinated jack mackerel, and bettarazuke--daikon pickles. Byakuya could hardly wait until grace was said, but somehow his years of etiquette training paid off and he managed to wait… only just barely. He made the executive decision that he was the junior here and began serving everyone the very second the last syllable was uttered.

Byakuya had never tasted food so good in his whole life. It was only after he had inhaled several large mouthfuls that he noticed the warden watching him. She seemed delighted by his gluttony. Though a quick glance showed him that Ten behaved exactly the same: swallowing everything in sight without hardly tasting it.

“So much like Hollows,” she murmured, as though to herself. “Hungry souls.”

“Dangerous,” Ten muttered around his rice.

Making an effort to eat more slowly, Byakuya considered this idea. Of course he disliked it, resisted it. He didn’t know Ten’s origins, but as a noble born inside the walls of the Seireitei, he found no commonality with a creature that was a broken, recycled soul.

But then he thought of Renji.

Renji who always ate with such passion.

“Just so,” Byakuya asserted. After all, like Hollows, both himself and Ten had a hole in their souls at the moment, the place where the zanpakutō should fit. Presumably as did everyone here, though, also presumably, something about the sealing process arrested the potential break… “Wait, are you suggesting that if we stayed separated long enough, like this, that we would become Hollows?”

“Not that one,” the warden said, indicating Ten with a nod of her chin. “You, perhaps.”

Finally, Byakuya gave into curiosity, “Why not Ten?”

“Because he’s a dirty thief,” she said, although it was with a kind of cold smile. 

“You call me a thief?” Ten said, nearly spattering them all with rice. “You’re the one who would have taken something that doesn’t belong to you! Yuusagi is mine and mine alone.”

“Yuusagi should be in my possession,” the warden replied, her hands clutching. “It’s the law.”

Byakuya was confused. He didn’t think it was possible to avoid sealing simply by hiding your zanpakutō. In fact, he was quite certain that the whole thing could be done remotely, as it was a very high level Kidō spell. He only knew this because he’d read in the archives that it was once a spell that was widely-known and taught, though it had been quickly classified as forbidden after a war among shinigami factions, wherein it had been used as a kind of ‘nuclear’ option… and had caused mass suicide and insanity. Now only the Kidō Grandmaster and a select number of the Kidō corps were allowed to learn it, and to only use it here, at the Maggot’s Nest.

How it was they managed to keep people from killing themselves, Byakuya didn’t know. Perhaps this was part of the starvation regime. 

He looked at his own food with suspicion suddenly. Was his sudden ravenous hunger something more sinister than just a reasonable response to having been without decent food for a day?

Casting his soul out, he sought the familiar song of Senbonzakura. Silence hit him like a stone. A deep ache stabbed him in the back of his right hand. An instant wave of starvation washed over him, and he greedily helped himself to more fish.

“Maybe you were closer than I suspected to Senbonzakura,” the warden said, sipping her tea.

“He was a captain, he had bankai. What did you think?” Ten said, sounding a little panicked. “What if he decides I smell tasty in the middle of the night?”

“You always smell tasty,” she said.

“Okay, gross,” Ten said, shifting a little closer to Byakuya. 

“You’d be safer from everyone if you would just cough up the little weasel,” the warden said to Ten. “I could seal you properly, then.”

“Yeah, that’s okay, I like having all my parts,” Ten said. “Besides, I told you. We’re not like others. I am Yuusagi; he is me. We don’t separate that easily.”

“No one separates easily,” the warden said, her voice held a peculiar combination of sorrow and desire. “You’re just a selfish thief.” 

“I think that’s what you are,” Ten said, turning back to his rice. “You like the process too much. I bet if you called shikai right now, the release command would be ‘Leach.’”

“Careful,” she warned, her cheeks growing hot, her hands freezing. “You only eat due to my kindness.” Turning to look at Byakuya, she added, “If I starve him, you could have a very hungry cellmate. You wouldn’t want that, would you?”

Ten looked cornered. Quickly, he ducked his head and apologized. “I’m very, very sorry, ma’am.”

“Much better,” she purred.

#

Renji debated whether or not they should use the front door, but then decided Seichi would probably be more comfortable going in the tradesmen’s entrance. Miki glanced up and gave Renji a bright smile, which turned into a frown when she saw Seichi. 

“Has the runaway come crawling back now that the master is away?” she wanted to know.

“No,” Renji assured her. “This idiot’s only gone and signed-on. He’s a shinigami now.”

“Good gods, not one of ours,” Miki breathed, setting down the bowl she was stirring.

Renji had to smile with a kind of pride to think that the household staff considered the Sixth their own. “Nah, we wouldn’t take him. He doesn’t meet our standards,” Renji said, with a brotherly bop on Seichi’s shoulders to soften his words.

Seichi, meanwhile, didn’t seem to be taking the teasing very well. His face was scrunched into a frown. “I don’t see why not,” he snarled. “Convicts are all the rage at the Sixth now, aren’t they? I’m just following the leader, right?”

“Oi, watch it. No need to get like that,” Renji said growing serious. He shoved Seichi in the direction of the stairs. “Try to make it a personal goal to get through dinner without being an asshole. Could you do that for me, little brother?”

Seichi made a noncommittal grunt, but marched resolutely towards the stairs. Renji shot Miki an apologetic glance. Her hands were on her ample hips and she just shook her head like she didn’t have much hope for dinner. He didn’t really either. Renji had a feeling it was going to be a long night. But, maybe Seichi could warm up to Shinobu if he knew that the kid had been raised on a working farm in the Rukongai… on the other hand, telling him about the heir’s background was a risk, given what a fucking gossip hound Seichi’d turned out to be. Renji was pretty sure Auntie Masama didn’t know about that and it would be better if she didn’t until after the investiture.

“Hold up,” Renji said, chasing Seichi up the stairs. “I’m serious about this. Can you be nice? The heir just wants to know what prison is like.”

“If I tell him the truth, it won’t be ‘nice,’ Renji,” Seichi said.

“I know that,” Renji said. “I’m not asking you to lie and tell him that prison is some kind of bed of roses. I’m just saying, don’t go out of your way to insult him, okay? He didn’t ask to be born a noble any more than we asked to be reborn in Inuzuri.”

Seichi’s shoulders seemed to drop a little. “Fine. I suppose I have to bow to him.”

“I suppose you do,” Renji said. “But he ain’t the sort who gives that many fucks about how low you go. Just make a little effort. That’s all I’m asking.”

A sigh escaped Seichi’s lips. Turning, he glanced up at Renji. “I still don’t know how you can stand it. Why did you leave the Eleventh? You don’t got to bow to no one there.”

“I guess I had ambitions that didn’t involve bashing people over the head,” Renji said lightly, though he was thinking about the demon. If he’d stayed, drenched in a constant flow of blood, he might have given Kenpachi what he’d always wanted: a monster. Hell, it had been what Aizen had seen in him, too. 

Zabimaru spat angrily, _Ssso much more than a mere monster_.

_Though misunderstood, we were always the champion of emperors_ , the Baboon King growled.

_I know_ , Renji assured them with a pat on the hilt. _That’s why we couldn’t stay where they didn’t appreciate all of what we had to offer._

Zabimaru settled down with a thoughtful murmur. 

Seichi was at the top of the staircase, looking down at Renji with a curious expression. “You okay?” he asked. “You stopped walking.”

“I was just talking to Zabimaru.”

Seichi raised his eyebrows, “Like you do.”

“Yeah, like you do,” Renji said, taking the rest of the stairs in a quick set of bounds. He smiled kindly at Seichi. “You’ll understand when you have one of your own.”

“You sound like one of those annoying obaa-sans always going on about ‘wait until you have children of your own,’” Seichi said. He paused, clearly waiting for Renji to lead now that they were deeper inside the mansion. As Renji directed them towards the heir’s suite, Seichi muttered, “What if I can’t, Renji? What if I don’t have enough spiritual pressure or whatever?”

“How long you been in the Eleventh? A couple of months now?” When Seichi nodded, Renji clapped his hand on Seichi’s narrow shoulder. “You keep hanging in there, you’ll get stronger. The day you don’t faint when Kenpachi walks by, you’re strong enough to call shikai. Trust me.”

# 

Byakuya could have continued eating, despite the company, but he and Ten seemed to have licked their plates clean and there was not a single grain of rice remaining. When he actually found himself eyeing the clam shells leftover in the miso bowls, he feared there might be some truth to this talk of Hollows.

Someone, it must have been Ten, said, “Gochisosama deshita,” and with that the meal was over and they were ushered back to their cell.

They had only just arrived when ‘lights out’ was called. The cell door slammed shut behind them, and everything was plunged into the eerie, near darkness of the Maggot’s Nest. Byakuya found his cot in the dark and lay down. His right hand ached. Had he been clenching it, trying to grasp Senbonzakura’s grip once again? Closing his eyes, he tried to listen for even the faintest hum.

“What is she like, your Senbonzakura?”

“They is the more proper pronoun,” Byakuya said stiffly. 

“You had to wrestle a thousand of them to gain bankai?”

Byakuya smiled lightly. “I wrestle a thousand of them, always. However, if you’re asking about their manifestation, Senbonzakura appears as a singular samurai. They wear an oni mask.” _My inner monster_ , Byakuya thought but didn’t say. This was far more than he had ever told another soul, even Renji. He found he had to whisper this last part, though he craved to speak it out loud: “I do not presume a gender, though they present male.”

Ten seemed to think about this for a while, then said, “Cool.”

That warmed Byakuya considerably. There was something profoundly comforting in speaking of Senbonzakura. In fact, he swore he could hear a whisper of a song. “And your Yuusagi?”

“You want to see her?”

Byakuya was surprised at this offer, but said, “Yes.”

He opened his eyes to see the head of a weasel hanging over the edge of the bunk bed, its claws clinging to the bunk bed frame. Whiskers twitched intelligently. It was too dark to see the color of the fur, except where it shown white at throat and belly. The weasel's small body vibrated with energy; in fact, it curled around itself in a ball once, before coming back around to peer expectantly at Byakuya.

Beady black blinked at him and a female voice chirped, “What do you think?”

Ten was like Yoruichi. Yoruichi… who also rarely carried her zanpakutō… or, Byakuya realized with a start, _was_ , somehow, the manifestation of her zanpakutō. “You are… most astounding,” Byakuya breathed. “Impressive.”

The weasel giggled girlishly and then vanished.


End file.
